Why I Paint the Same View Every Monsoon

The ritual

The first heavy monsoon rain in Kathmandu usually arrives in June. For the past eight years, I've packed a backpack with watercolour paper, a travel palette, and two brushes, and hiked up to a spot on the ridge above Kirtipur with a clear view north toward Ganesh Himal.

The light is different every year. The valley fills with cloud differently. The rice in the fields below is at a different stage of growth. I paint the same composition and every single one is different.

What repetition does

When you paint the same subject repeatedly, you stop worrying about recording what's there. You already know what's there. Instead, you start paying attention to how you're feeling about what's there — and that's where the interesting work begins.

The third year, I noticed I was using much less water. The fifth year, I started leaving out the communications towers on the left ridge. Not because they aren't there, but because they weren't part of the painting I needed to make that day.

What you can try

You don't need a dramatic view. A window, a tree, a corner of your kitchen — pick something you see every day and make a study of it once a month for a year. Use the same format. Don't try to make each one better than the last. Just record how you see it that day.

At the end of the year, lay them out side by side. The difference won't be in what's in front of you. It'll be in you.

This year's Kirtipur series

The 2026 piece is currently drying in my studio. It's darker than usual — the sky was almost purple at the moment the rain hit. I'll have prints available next month.